


reunion

by armethaumaturgy



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post Game, Reunions, Spoilers, mikleo is scared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 06:56:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10406469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armethaumaturgy/pseuds/armethaumaturgy
Summary: He feels like he's dreaming, another one of those cruel nightmares that dangle his beloved in front of him only to yank it away mercilessly. And yet, none of his dreams ever came close to the realness of Sorey's eyes, of the soft color and an apologetic twinkle as they crinkle at the corners, even though he has it memorized.





	

**Author's Note:**

> ive been listening to Little do you know by sierra & alex and im. sorry if mikmik is a crybaby but also. listen

It's almost like a dream.

Mikleo runs his fingers over Sorey's face, touch barely there, fingertips _barely_ touching the skin. His hand brushes chocolate colored hair aside, touching the soft feathers, Sorey's earrings still in place.

He feels like he's dreaming, another one of those cruel nightmares that dangle his beloved in front of him only to yank it away mercilessly. And yet, none of his dreams ever came close to the realness of Sorey's eyes, of the soft color and an apologetic twinkle as they crinkle at the corners, even though he has it memorized.

His subconscious had never been _that_ cruel.

"Now we're even," Sorey says, his lips stretching into a wide, lopsided smile. His voice sends a shiver down Mikleo's spine and he opens his mouth, shakily taking in a sharp breath.

The words, words he'd said himself ages ago, hit something in his chest and his hand falls from Sorey's face to clutch at his own coat, stumbling backwards, dangerously close to falling off the edge of the hole again. A choked sound tears from his throat, somehow conveying all seven hundred years of loneliness and waiting and burning pain of being all alone with just that one sound alone.

"Mikleo!" Sorey exclaims, his smile long gone in favor of a concerned — almost frightened — look, eyes wide as he practically jumps forward, hands faltering in midair for just a moment before grasping Mikleo's shoulders, pulling him forward, away from the collapsed floor. "You have to be careful! You fell in there once already!"

Mikleo doesn't answer, his shoulders shaking at this point, sobs wracking his body. Sorey looks at him with concern, but his face swims in the tears that pool in Mikleo's eyes.

He hadn't heard this voice for years, decades, centuries, and hearing it again feels almost like getting hit by a pickleboar at full speed. Mikleo bites at his lower lip in hopes of stopping his crying, but it doesn't work.

Instead he lunges forward, hands flying up to Sorey's upper arms, gripping at the familiar shirt, so hard it must probably hurt Sorey, but if it does, he doesn't say anything, and doesn't say anything even as Mikleo buries his face into the crook of Sorey's neck, hands shaking when they grip and hold Sorey close. His tears stain the blue fabric, the fabric that muffles his cries.

His voice sounds pathetic even to himself, and guilt fills him at the thought that this is the first thing Sorey hears from him after all these years, but that doesn't stop him from weeping openly; instead he cries even harder, his knees buckling from all the strain. He would fall if it wasn't for Sorey's hands on his hips, steadying him and helping him maintain his balance.

"So—rey!" he cries out, leaving most of his weight onto the brunet. "Sorey, Sorey, Sorey!"

"Mikleo," Sorey laughs, his own voice obviously strained. He's holding back his own sobs even as tears leak down his face, digging lines down his cheeks as they keep pouring. His grip on Mikleo's hips gets tighter, pulling the seraph closer, as close as their physical bodies allow them. Sorey leans forward, hiding his face into the softness of Mikleo's long hair.

The feathers of his earring tickle the side of Mikleo's face and prompt the seraph to pull away. Not from the embrace, but enough to wipe at his wet, raw cheeks, smearing the tears around.

He takes a deep breath, the sheer volume of the air filling his lungs sending a pang through his chest. His eyes lock with Sorey's.

"I missed you."

"Mmhm. Thank you for waiting for me."

* * *

The ruins turn out to be pretty small, and with their knowledge of ruin scavenging — okay, mostly Mikleo's. Could you blame him, though, when he'd had centuries to travel far and wide, keeping Sorey's dream alive in his heart? — they find everything interesting pretty quick.

The nostalgic feeling is strong; Sorey fits right back besides Mikleo, full of wonder at the ancient language like he'd never left in the first place. The ex-shepherd seems a little upset that Mikleo had visited so many ruins without him.

Mikleo is gripped by an irrational anger momentarily, masking the underlying pain. "I haven't been gone for seven hundred years," he mutters darkly, unable to stop himself.

Sorey laughs awkwardly, eyebrows drawing together. "You won't let me live it down, will you?"

"Never!" Mikleo exclaims with defiance, crossing his arms and pouting in that way only he can make look adorable.

"Mi~kleo!" Sorey whines, snaking a hand towards Mikleo, whole body leaning sideways where he's sitting by the wall. His fingers touch Mikleo's side, running up and down over the cloth, just over that sensitive spot.

"Hii!" Mikleo gasps, spine straightening and body going rigid as Sorey keeps tickling him, forcing laughter to buckle up from his throat. He wiggles, trying to push Sorey's arm away, but to no avail.

Sorey descends onto him, both hands teasing along his sides until there are tears in Mikleo's eyes and a flush of breathlessness on his cheeks. He keeps going until Mikleo starts flailing, no longer able to breathe at all and doing his best to kick Sorey off.

The boy scoots off, watching with a satisfied yet soft smile as Mikleo regains his breath, sitting up against the pleasantly cool stone wall, chest heaving. The pleasant silence, something familiar to them both, stretches. Although Mikleo would prefer it not being silent right now.

"I wrote," he tells Sorey, catching his full attention again, "About all the ruins. I collected souvenirs for you." His next breath gets stuck in his throat. Tears prick at the backs of his eyes again, and he squeezes them closed to stop them. He'd become quite the crybaby while Sorey had been sleeping. "I-" he tries, voice betraying him. He pulls his knees up to his chest and drops his head onto them, arms hugging them close.

"Mikleo?" Sorey calls out, scooting closer to him.

"Sorry for being such a crybaby."

"Mikleo…" Sorey's voice is soft, "Thank you."

Mikleo lifts his head, blinking back the tears that threaten to spill yet again. He does a fairly good job, even if it makes his eyes sting. "Why are you thank me, you dummy?"

Sorey laughs, a gentle sound that reverberates in the quiet ruins, and also in Mikleo's chest. He hadn't even realized Sorey laughed this much around him, even when things weren't going smoothly. "For waiting for me," Sorey explains, "I'm really thankful. I— I want to see this world with you, Mikleo! This is what we fought for! A purer world… I want to discover it all over again with Mikleo."

Despite the tightening in his chest, Mikleo finds himself grinning, laughing alongside Sorey. "Yeah. You'll love it," he breathes, offering him a lopsided and shaky smile that makes him look small again, big pink eyes looking at Sorey as if he personally put all the stars onto the sky.

But those big pink eyes have circles underneath them; Mikleo looks weary, so tired now that he'd cried and went through so many emotions so quick.

"Let's rest," Sorey says, lowering himself onto the floor, unheeding of the patches of weeds grown through the stones. He uses his arms in lieu of a pillow. "You look tired, Mikleo."

The seraph inhales sharply as Sorey settles down, eyes going wider than Sorey thought possible, wider than that one time when they'd been children and he'd given Mikleo a giant, sparkling gem he'd secretly found in a ruin. "No, Sorey," Mikleo breathes, no more than a whisper, and it breaks the memory into a million shards, because those eyes don't hold wonder and elation this time; this time, they're filled with unbridled fear and panic that makes Mikleo's shoulders shake.

"I don't want to sleep yet," Mikleo says, a little too fast, too panicked.

"But you look like you really need it," Sorey counters. Mikleo knows he's right, that his emotions, simmering inside him for so long, escaping after all this time left him emotionally drained and tired and in a dire need of a good sleep, but the mere idea of Sorey closing his eyes and not opening them grips his heart in a vice, turns his blood into solid ice and fingers into a shaking mess.

"I'm fine!" he lies, averting his eyes and clenching his hands into fists. "I just got you back, I… I—"

His words fail him time again; he doesn't know how to voice his thoughts, this stupid fear gripping at his insides.

"Mikleo…" Sorey mutters, pushing himself back up onto his arms. "It's fine, it's just sleep."

Mikleo shakes his head frantically, his hair whipping back and forth in loose curls. "You just woke up!"

And that finally seems to make Sorey understand just what is going on. He blinks, shoulders slumping on their own accord.

"Just a few hours! I promise, no more than a few hours." He reaches out to grasp Mikleo's hand and pulls him forward into an embrace. "I'll hold you the whole time so you know for sure."

A remark sits at the tip of Mikleo's tongue, but he bites it back and lets Sorey pull them both down onto the ground. Mikleo ends up mostly on top of Sorey instead of the cold hard stones. "Will you really wake up in the morning?" he finds himself asking, needing to hear it just once more.

"Yeah," Sorey breathes near his ear, "I swear it."

"I'll leave you here if you don't," Mikleo says, and it's a lie; he could never leave Sorey in here all alone, but the brunet doesn't need to know that.

Even though he probably does anyway.

"That's fair. But you won't have to."

* * *

Mikleo wake up gradually, with the sun shining down through the holes in the ceiling, warming his skin, and then all that once, gasping sharply and sitting up, the debris scattered around digging into his legs through his trousers.

His heart pounds heavy in his chest, weighing more than usual.

The seraph looks down, almost scared of doing so, of seeing Sorey's body deathly still, but instead he's met with a pair of eyes the color of the grass growing outside the ruins and a soft, knowing, reassuring smile.

"Good morning, Mikleo," Sorey says, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Mikleo's ear, fingers brushing over the circlet hidden underneath the bangs.

"Sorey," Mikleo echoes, bringing one gloved hand up to grip Sorey's, keeping it right there, cupping his cheek. "It wasn't a dream."

The remark isn't meant for Sorey, it just escapes as relief floods Mikleo's whole body, making him feel warm and genuinely happy, but Sorey nods nonetheless, smiling. "Yup! I'm right here, and you're not getting rid of me!"

Mikleo lays back down on top of Sorey, so close that their foreheads touch and Sorey's soft eyes fill his whole sight. Mikleo's breath fans over Sorey's chin, and Sorey's against Mikleo's.

"I wouldn't dream of that," he confesses and revels in the way Sorey's eyes soften, narrow, and his lips part into a toothy grin.

"We have a lot of catching up to do," Sorey whispers, sending a shiver down Mikleo's spine at the close proximity. "I can't wait!"

Sorey's grin is highly infectious. "Let's start by me showing you a new recipe," he proposes.

Sorey's growling stomach offers zero protests.

 


End file.
